


Rat in the walls

by Favaar



Category: Re-Animator (1985)
Genre: Blood, Dan Cain - Freeform, Insanity, Kidnapping, Light bondage i guess, M/M, Mad Scientists, Manipulation, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Kink, Medical Torture, Surgery, informal surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Favaar/pseuds/Favaar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herbert West preys on Dan and makes plans to dissect him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch 1

You can hear the clinking, clanking from the basement when you breath quietly at night. The screeching of metal on metal keeps you far from sleep, The horrible noises always stop around four AM. It goes completely silent down there, not a noise. When he wades into the hall in the morning, straightening his tie, he acts as if nothing had happened; As if he weren't keeping secrets down there in the cold, hoarding rotting remains like a hungry pack rat. He seems to go still when he looks at you, though you pretend to not notice. 

You come home one day from the hospital and head to the kitchen. It's been one of those long days that makes you feel like a kite being dragged by it's string. You're sipping a glass of water when you notice it; The house is completely silent. He's probably not home, but he wasn't at the hospital either. You don't exactly care where he goes or how he spends his time, but this new stillness is unnerving. You shrug it off and drift to sleep on the couch. 

When you wake, it's late at night and it seems he still hasn't returned. You decide to poke your head in the basement, just to check on him. When you open the door to the wooden stairs, it creaks open and the damp air rises to meet you. 

"West?" You say sternly into the room, as if he's hiding in the freezing basement. There is no answer. You step firmly down the stairs, groping blindly for the light switch. You find it and the lights flicker on, though it doesn't fill the shadows. When you turn, you see something under the stairs, partially covered by darkness. There is something barely definable that dangles off the edge of a table. 

You see dead bodies all the time at the hospital, wheel them into the morgue and adjust them to fit side by side like rows of strange teeth.  
This is different. There are no fluorescent lights flooding every crevice, or gloves or the safe smell of rubbing alcohol.  
The odor of death and mildew fills your nostrils and your head spins. You stagger towards the body that more resembles a lump of grey, discolored dough. The arm dangles off the metal table and points into the darkness. 

"What are you doing down here". West is on top of the stairs, looking down his nose at you. "West, what the fuck is the matter with you" You scramble away from him, behind the table with the dead mass of flesh as he descends into the dimly lit room. "Nothing is the matter with me. You, on the other hand, are in my personal space and meddling with an important experiment" he takes the last step and gazes eerily at you under the dim lights. "Experiment? You're a fucking madman, West. You've killed her, look at her!" Your screams seem to bleed into the cement around you, and you back into the wall as West corners you. It's sad, really, for a man your height to be threatened by one of his. He's maybe five inches shorter than you.  
"Killed her? Not at all. Enlightened her, more like. You don't understand, I know, but if you could see the bigger picture, maybe you would " He spreads his arms around you like closing teeth and you push him away into a steel desk. He topples away and you hear the screech of a metal drawer as he scrambles for something. 

You find your legs and bound towards the stairs, clambering at the rickety wood that digs slivers into your hands. You'll get out of here, go back to the hospital and phone the police about what he's done. What you should've known he'd do. Should've asked about Europe, and his experiments, about why he left Europe. The answer was a simple one; He's insane. 

You feel a sting, and a sore ache at your heel, and you look down to see him laying on the ground, baring his teeth in a feral grin as a horrible, screaming pain tears at your ankle. You stumble on the steps, throwing splatters of blood over the wood and the cement walls. You pass out before the blood thickens and forms a mass of red goo. 

 

You're head is sick, and there's a phlegm taste in the back of your throat. You open you're eyes as soon as you realize you're awake. You tug at your arms, but they won't move, and tingle with pins and needles as you wriggle your toes and fingers. The familiar ceiling of the basement is above you. You tilt your head enough to see that your arms and legs are fastened with leather straps on an iron table, like the one the dead woman lay on. Panic jumbles your pulse as the thought of dying and rotting like she did passes through your mind.  
A hand suddenly swipes at your forehead, and you jerk away from the cold fingers. 

"Dan, do you remember much? Probably not" West stares at you blankly and keeps swiping at your forehead. His voice sounds muffled, like he's talking through a glass panel. You push air out of your lungs and try to form words out of it with your tongue, but you just cough helplessly at the doctor.  
"I sliced your tendon, yes. I know it hurts. I gave you an anesthetic. It will heal if you don't move around too much". And he, of course, means 'If you don't try to get out'. He turns and riffles through the drawer he turned to earlier, resurfacing with a pair of medical scissors  
"And now, Dan" He says slowly as he moves the scissors down your shirt, ripping the fabric to flap open at your sides. The damp air of the basement sinks into your skin.  
He shoves your jeans down your legs, the denim sticking on your cold legs. You let out a strange grunt when he cuts away your briefs and leaves you exposed on the cold metal.  
You shiver as he moves his steady hand down your abdomen and points to a spot just inside your left hipbone, finger cruelly digging into your flesh, as if he could break skin with just a fingernail.  
"I'll need to cut you up again".


	2. Ch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herbert sews Dan up again

You wake up trying to scream in the dimly lit basement. Your ankle is on fire with nerves and sick pain. Your abdomen feels hot and itchy, and you see why when you crane your head to look; There is perfect black stitching that neatly follows a long slit just above your hip. You instantly recognize it as Herbert's impeccable stitch-work.  
You struggle in the leather straps that bind your mouth, arms, legs and one that is tight over your ribs. However, the sickening pain that shoots up your leg deters you from further attempts, which is no doubt Herbert's design.  
You lie completely naked in the cold basement and seethe, closing your eyes and trying to mentally run from the imminent pain.

You jump when you hear the door slam shut from upstairs. Measured footsteps approach from above and stop outside the basement door. You had no idea this place was so vulnerable to sound in the rest of the house, and you wonder if Herbert was always listening.

Light suddenly pools on the floor as the basement door creaks open. You know who stands at the top of the rickety stairs.  
Herbert noncommittally glides into the room, towards his desk, pulling out some sanitary wipes and a new needle. Why did you ever give him this place to nurture his sick fascination? Another mistake you add to the pile called 'Herbert West'.

Herbert turns to to you and gently fingers the leather loose from your mouth. You roll your jaw and stare at him.  
"Better?" He stands above your vulnerable form and begins to dab at the stitching. He smirks when you wince in pain.

"Ooh, sorry Dan. It's probably a bit sore still"  
"Wh-what the hell did you do to me, West" you croak through immense fear and a dry throat.  
Herbert glances at you quickly, then his gaze floats lazily back to the stitching.  
"Answer me, goddamnit" you try to growl, but whine instead. Why isn't the son of a bitch answering you?

West sighs and his sharp gaze is fixed on you.  
"No, Dan" he presses a bit harder on the stitching. You gasp and try to writhe away from the pain.  
"The question is not what I did to you". Your eyes bug as his fingernails dig between the stitches and loosen them, scraping at the angry red flesh.  
"West, stop! Whatever this bullshit is, just fucking stop, alright?"  
"A bit demanding for one in so vulnerable of a position, aren't you Dan?" The whites of Herbert's eyes flash eerily in the dark room. His nails part the corners of your reddening wound.  
You gape up at him with dry lips, mouthing silent pleas as his fingers wriggle back inside your body to press on your innards. Blood rises from the now open gash to spill down your stomach and groin.  
"The question, Dan, is what I am already doing to you".  
 "West, stop. Please, I'm serious. Please, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" you gasp as his fingernails begin to scratch at your twitching organs.  
He gives you a hard look before retreating. You watch as he glides blood soaked fingers out of your stomach and uses to the wipes to clean them off.

"Now the stitch-work will need to be redone" Herbert murmurs and begins wiping the blood on your stomach, gliding down to your groin.  
"With the way you're acting, I really shouldn't give you anesthesia".  
The blood drains from your face. You don't know how long you can hold up without anesthesia. Especially now that your stomach's been ripped open again.

You're relieved when Herbert doesn't make good on his threat, and presses the needle into the open gash. He thankfully does the same with your ankle. Within minutes, your mind begins to retard until your perception is completely off and the anesthesia has done it's work.

You don't feel the sharp fingers prodding at the mangled gouge, or the piece of metal that sews your skin back into place. The neat pattern lays back on your skin, Herbert's perfect stitch work fixing what he's already destroyed.


	3. Ch 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan mistakes Herbert's practicality for domesticity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy April Fools day.

In a few days time, West brings you down some food. Your head aches and your muscles throb because you haven't eaten in at least a week, but you try not to feel grateful as he steadily spoon feeds you the cereal. It's strange that you have the energy left to be embarrassed by the infantile treatment, but there you have it.

He stares at you with an undecipherable, but slightly concentrated expression as he hovers the spoon next to your mouth. You've considered refusing it, but thought better of it. Fact is, you're starving and helpless. 

You stare at the ceiling and shiver as he moves away to the kitchen to rinse the dishes; He doesn't approve of leaving dishes, trash, or any other used items down in his work space. He's kept the basement relatively well looked after, and it isn't naturally freezing but in fact has an A/C running 24/7 so as to deter the odor of decaying flesh that builds up along with his 'experiments'. West practically lives down here with the dissected corpses and disinfectant. The place is like a temple he's built to exalt his own insanity. 

He steps back down the stairs and hovers above you. You stare, glassy eyed, back at him.  
"My god, you're dirty" he sniffs and steps further towards you, white lab coat swishing over his legs.  
"Just look at yourself. You'd vomit if you did. Sweaty and covered in blood. You're hair is so greasy, Dan. And your color is absolutely horrid". You don't respond to his cruel nit picking as he paces around you. 

"God, I can't stand this anymore" he mutters dismissively and jogs back up the stairs, leaving you with his criticism. You're beginning to grow wary as his energy becomes evident. Obviously his adrenaline is running high, and that means he's about to get creative.  
You hear water running upstairs, then the dull clunk of shoes. he opens the door and slowly steps down the stairs with a large bowl and a bag. 

You flinch as he moves towards you with the questionable items, and his gaze flickers to your movement.  
"Don't worry, Dan" he sighs and snatches a loofah out of the warm water, wringing it out.  
"It's just a bath". He moves it over your arms and gingerly over the stitching, scrubbing too harshly on your chest and neck. He stops to lather some soap, then continues. 

"Stop". He looks up at you with a seemingly serene expression.  
"Just stop. I don't want a bath, or need one. Just skip the fucking domesticity, Herbert. And stop acting like my friend, because we both know you aren't" you say evenly, feeling a bit more sure of yourself. He pauses to rinse the loofah in the warm water, then turns to you with a bored expression. 

"Alright, Dan. You don't want to be friends? Then i won't act like your friend". You're heart beats a bit faster as he begins lathering the loofah in soap until the suds drip off his hand and wrist. He grabs your hair with his free hand and yanks backwards, making your sensitive scalp ache with pain. 

"Let the fuck go of me, West" You bellow, and the words are cut short by his soap covered hand shoving the loofah into your mouth. The sharp taste of soap burns your tongue and you try to spit it out. His hand moves the loofah further into your mouth on to the verge of your throat. You choke and work your tongue to dispense the unwelcome acid as the loofah blocks your throat entirely, and his fingers work to cram it further down. 

He leans over you and stares at your tearing eyes.  
"Swallow it" he snarls and pulls his hand back from your throat. Swallow the soap? It stings your throat and makes you gag as you loll your tongue about to find relief from the acid. You gather your saliva and spit at Herbert's looming face. 

His squints menacingly, then he grabs the loofah and shoves it down your throat. You instantly begin gagging and choking on the acid taste dripping down your windpipe. Tears pour from your stinging eyes as you feel acid rushing up from your stomach. The blocked vomit burns in your chest and your try to scream, only to choke on the intruding hand. Herbert makes a face at the building vomit and slides his hand out of your mouth. The horrid substance spews from your lips and down the side of your cheek. 

Your throat is burning like it's been scratched raw by sharp nails, and you vomit again as your body tries to rid itself of the soap. Herbert sneers at the disgusting mess in front of him and turns back to the bowl of water. He sloshes it over your face and stands in front of you as you rasp and choke for breathe. 

"I'm not trying to act like your friend, Dan" You cough up a delirious laugh when he says that. He frowns and continues.  
"If you suffer infection or contamination, nothing I have planned will pan out the way it's supposed to. Do you understand?". So that's why; He didn't want to get dirt in his stitchwork. You're too weak and sore throated to ask what exactly his plan is, but it obviously can't be good. 


End file.
